


Harry Potter and the Lost Memories

by Guen_Weatherby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Hogwarts, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guen_Weatherby/pseuds/Guen_Weatherby
Summary: Harry wakes up in St. Mungo's, confused and disoriented, only to be told he's lost the last three years of his memory. He doesn't even remember getting engaged to Draco Malfoy.Will Harry get his memories back or will Draco just have to make him fall in love with him all over again?---Predictable. Eventual smut. Will probably have some angst thrown in for good measure.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have a beta, so if you see any glaring mistakes please let me know. :)

Harry felt warm, too warm. He grumbled and pushed a heavy blanket off himself with one hand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the other. 

“You’re awake” said a smooth voice that he recognized instantly. Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and his hand was pulled from the blanket to a pair of soft, tender lips. Harry jerked his hand away and sat up abruptly, shocked that Draco Malfoy had just kissed him. The quick movement made his head spin and he was suddenly very aware of just how heavy he felt, how foggy his mind was. _Where am I,_ thought Harry. _Where is my wand. How-_ He was breathing heavily now as panic began to set it. He didn’t feel right. “Shh shh, love. It will be alright, you just have to take it slow. I’ll go grab Healer Weatherby, just please lay down.” Malfoy’s hand was now at his chest, gently pushing him down. Harry grabbed the blond’s wrist, shoving it away from his body. ”I’m sorry, does it hurt when I touch you?” Harry shook his head, trying to clear the fog. 

“Malfoy...” he rasped. What did he want to say again? He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. “Where are we?” 

“St. Mungo’s” said the blond, his voice tight. “Fourth Floor, Treatment for Spell Damage. You were hit five hours ago on an assignment. They said you are going to be okay. _Are you_ okay?”

“An assignment?” The last thing Harry remembered was opening presents at the Burrough that morning, he hadn’t been on any type of assignment. In fact, he’d asked for the week off. 

“Yes the Poxie case.” Malfoy brushed a strand of hair back from Harry’s face. “I’m so happy that you are okay.” Malfoy kissed him gently, pressing his lips to Harry’s as he let out a soft hum of happiness. Harry stiffened and the blond backed away. “Did I hurt you? I’ll go get the healer.” 

Harry watched as Malfoy left and swung his legs off the bed once the door closed behind the blond. He didn’t know what was happening, or why Malfoy was here, but his head was starting to clear and he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to get out of there and find a healer himself. Afterall, if Malfoy was kissing him he wasn’t in the right state of mind either. _Did he bring me to St. Mungos after finding me hurt? Did he get hurt too? Had they been confunded?_ Malfoy wasn’t an Auror but he’d worked on Auror cases before as a Potion Expert.

He found his wand on a small table next to his bed, now he just needed to find his clothing. He was currently wearing a thin hospital gown and didn’t want to leave with his shorts showing in the back. But before he could try a summoning charm, Malfoy came back, this time with a white robed Wizard behind him that Harry recognized instantly. 

The man frowned at Harry. 

“Mr. Potter, it is inadvisable that you be standing right now,” his eyes flitted to Harry’s wand, “or that you be casting spells! I must insist that you at least sit _down._ ”

“Healer Weatherby!” said Harry with relief before sitting down on his bed again. He’d been treated by Weatherby countless times and he knew it was best to listen to his instructions. “What happened? Why am I here?” 

“You were hit on assignment, as usual. Shall we run through the questionnaire?” 

Harry didn’t want to run through the questionnaire. He wanted to ask his own questions such as, _What assignment?_ and _What spell was I actually hit with?_ and _Why the fuck is Draco Malfoy here and why does he keep kissing me? Was he consulting for the assignment Harry had been on? Had the git been hit with some sort of... kissing hex?_ Instead he just said, “Sure.” He knew from experience that Weatherby wouldn’t answer anything until he ran through the questionnaire.

“Splendid. What is your name?” 

“Harry James Potter.”

“And what is your date of birth?”

“The thirty first of July, 1980.” Harry ran a hand through his hair.

“What is the current year?”

“2005.”

Malfoy gasped, but Weatherby ignored him. 

“What month is it?”

“December.”

“Who is the Prime Minister?”

Harry sighed. He didn’t usually get so many questions pertaining to time orientation. By now Weatherby was usually asking about physical symptoms. 

“Kingsley Shacklebolt.” 

Weatherby pursed his lips and crossed his arms. 

“Mr. Malfoy could you please leave the room?” The blond stepped out, leaving Harry even more confused. Why had Malfoy been there in the first place and why was it important that he leave now? “Mr. Potter, I have some difficult news. I would appreciate it if you didn’t hex me once I share this news with you like you did last time.” 

Harry didn’t know what Weatherby was going on about. He’d never hexed the man in his life. 

“Er... ok. I won’t?”

“We will have to run tests.” Harry groaned and Weatherby simply continued, his tone somber. “We have to run tests because you seem to have lost your memory.”

“I was starting to think that. I don’t even remember going on assignment.”

“Mr. Potter... I’m sad to tell you that it is not 2005. It is November of 2008, and it appears you have been obliviated.” 

* * *

The next few hours were filled with wands waving over him, diagnostic spells stinging his skin, and Legillemancy Specialists digging around his head for the missing memories. Harry mused that if he ever found who had obliviated him, he’d get them to erase these last few hours as well. Once all the tests were over, Harry was taken back to his room where Hermione and Ron were thankfully waiting for him. 

Relief washed over Harry’s body at the sight of them. 

“Ron, ‘Mione!” They wrapped their arms around him and he felt safe for the first time since waking up. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Draco owled us,” said Hermione, tears pooling in her eyes. “He told us everything. Oh Harry, three years missing!” She hugged him again. _Draco Malfoy owled them? Is he still here?_

“We are here to help fill in the gaps, mate.” smiled Ron.

“Great” he breathed. “I still don’t feel like this is real. I-” 

He was interrupted by Healer Weatherby and Malfoy stepping into the room. Harry avoided Malfoy’s eyes. Now that his head was completely clear, he was even more confused about why Malfoy had kissed him earlier or why he was even here. 

“I have your results, Mr. Potter” began Weatherby. “You have been hit with Obliviate, but by two people at once. We found two magical traces and removed them, but the effects of the spell will linger. I have prescribed you Memoraie Potion which you must take every day at dawn. The potion will help stimulate your brain, but it is important that you return to your home and your routine. Eventually something will trigger a memory for you and then they should all rush back.” 

“How long will that take?” asked Hermione, before anyone else could speak. 

“The memories may return within a day or two, or a few months, or... Well...” Weatherby cleared his throat. “In very small cases the memories may never return.” Harry felt as if a cauldron of cold water had been emptied over his entire body. “That’s very unlikely as your other mental capabilities are all in order and you’ve been able to retain the new memories you’ve created since waking. I truly have hope that you will make a full recovery, Mr. Potter.” Weatherby patted Harry on the shoulder. “Get back to your regular surroundings and routine. You’ll remember, I’m sure of it.” 

After a few thanks and pleasantries from Hermione, and after summoning Harry a case of potions to take home, Weatherby cleared the room.

“It will be okay,” said Hermione, easily reading Harry’s face. He felt completely overwhelmed. “We will get you back to Grimmauld place and your memories will come swarming back.”

“Grimmauld place?” Harry didn’t live there. That house was run down and filled with cursed objects and a racist painting. He lived in a one bedroom flat in muggle London.

“Right... Mate, there’s something I have to tell you” said Ron, looking from Harry to Malfoy and back again. Harry assumed it was something Malfoy couldn’t hear. 

“Can you leave?” He asked the blond so that Ron could speak freely. “I really don’t know why you’re still here.”

“Harry, that’s what I need to tell you,” said Ron. “You moved to Grimmauld Place a few months into 2006 after uhm.. After you started seeing Ma- Draco.” 

“Seeing?”

“Harry...” added Hermione gently. “Draco is your fiance. That’s why he’s here. He’s your emergency contact.”

Harry’s eyes whipped to Malfoy who leaned against the wall, expressionless at the back of the room. 

“That’s why you kissed me” blurted Harry. Malfoy nodded silently. “I thought... I thought maybe he’d gotten hit too? He was confused?” said Harry, now to Ron and Hermione. 

“No” clarified Harmione. “No, he wasn’t hit. He isn’t an Auror, Harry.”

“I know that,” he snapped. He was starting to get frustrated. “He makes potions but sometimes he works with Aurors when we need a consult. He-” 

Malfoy made a choking noise, and for a second Harry saw pain splattered across his face, but the blond looked away, shielding himself. 

“Why don’t you start getting the house ready?” offered Hermione. “We will bring Harry once he’s all caught up.” Harry could only see the back of the blonde’s head, but the man just nodded and left. 

Harry felt lost, like he’d woken up in an alternate reality, in another Harry’s body, and that his real life was waiting for him in a completely different universe. He needed answers, but luckily his friends had them.

He had a million questions. When did he start dating Malfoy? How did they get engaged? Why did they live at Grimmauld place? Did he really have to stay there? Could he stay with them instead? The answers were simple. He’d started dating Draco Malfoy in secret (Hermione and Ron weren’t exactly sure when or how or why). Harry had proposed to Malfoy on Holiday in France (Hermione noted that it had been very romantic). They lived at Grimmauld because the Manor had too many negative memories and Malfoy refused to live in anything smaller (Ron praised Harry for all the work he’d done on the home). Yes he had to stay there, it was his home. And no he couldn’t stay with them, but they would visit daily until he felt comfortable. 

“Ok,” grimaced Harry. “Ok, I... I guess I’ll have to go to Grimmauld place.”

“You _get_ to go _home._ ” rephrased Hermioned. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Right. I _get_ to go _home_. I get to go home to... Draco Malfoy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much dialogue in this chapter, so if that's what you enjoy, I apologize in advance.  
> \---  
> As usual, please let me know if there are any errors and I'll fix them right away. :)

Harry stepped out of the floo into the sitting room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t been here since Kreacher had passed away in June. _Or at least that’s the last time I remember being here..._ He was alone. Hermione and Ron had insisted that he go alone and assured him that they would visit first thing in the morning. They seemed to think this way would be best for his memory. 

As he looked around, he wondered if he had misspoke when he’d entered the floo at St. Mungos. The room he stood in had new wooden floors, a soft wine colored rug in front of the fireplace surrounded by a spacious sofa, a loveseat, and an inviting armchair. He made his way around a coffee table that had Quidditch Magazines and a thick book piled on top. 

It even smelled different than the last time he’d been here. He remembered the house smelling musty and humid, something that Mrs. Weasley had complained about often when The Order had occupied the home. But now it just smelled... Harry inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of freshly laundered linen. Something about it soothed him. He walked over to the stairs and went down to the ground floor where he expected to find Mrs. Black’s portrait. Instead Harry found a bathroom, a large dining room, and on the wall where the portrait used to hang, he found dozens of moving photographs. In the center was a large photograph of Harry and Malfoy sitting under a large oak. Photo Malfoy was laughing as photo Harry smiled fondly, unable to take his eyes off of the blond. Real Harry’s stomach sank at the sight of himself so happy and at peace. How had he gotten to that point with Malfoy? 

He looked away, focussing his attention on the other photographs. There were pictures of his parents smiling back at him, of Tonks and Lupin hugging, of Sirius waving from his motorcycle, of- Harry got closer, making sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. Narcissa Malfoy stood in one of the photographs, wearing an ornate floor-length gown. She smiled as a little boy with platinum blond hair and white dress robes ran into frame, wrapping his arms around her. There were other pictures of Malfoy on the wall, of people that may have been his family, though Harry didn’t see Lucius anywhere. _That’s probably for the best,_ he thought. He'd hate to have to walk by Lucius Malfoy’s unforgiving glare every day. Finally Harry came across a picture of himself, Andromeda, and Teddy which left an ache in his chest. Teddy looked taller than Harry remembered and he was flying on an actual broom, not a toy one. Andromeda and Harry flew behind him, laughing. _I don’t remember this. I don’t remember being there..._ His eyes roamed back to the center picture of himself and Malfoy. _I don’t remember any of it._

The smell of something delicious wafting up from the basement snapped Harry out of his thoughts and he continued past the dining room, down the stairs to Kreacher’s favorite place in the home, the kitchen. 

Harry almost gasped once the room came into view. Everything was white, from the stove, to a rather expensive looking cauldron that sat where a wooden table used to be. There was even a fridge that must have been charmed, because electricity didn’t work at Grimmauld place. Too much magic had seeped into the walls over time. That was one of the reasons that Harry had abandoned it for his flat in muggle London. _Do I still own that flat?_

On the stove sat pots and pans, with spoons all stirring on their own, but whoever had charmed them was not here. He felt awkward, as though he were intruding in a stranger’s home. Other than the placement of the stove and the general shape of the room, there was nothing familiar about his surroundings. This wasn’t a kitchen that he knew. 

The largest pot on the stove chimed loudly three times, followed by a soft pop behind Harry. 

“Oh... you’re home.” 

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy standing by the stairs. Malfoy wore his hair down and Harry noticed it was longer than he had thought. He hadn’t tried to look much at the man at St. Mungo’s, but he distinctly remembered that it had been up in a loose bun. His hair was long enough to touch his shoulders. It stood in stark contrast against the black fitted muggle tee that he wore. Though thin, Malfoy was strong and toned, something his tee showed off expertly. The casual look was completed with a pair of black joggers and grey slippers.

“Yeah...” said Harry, unsure of what to do with himself now that he wasn’t alone.

“I moved a few of your belongings into the largest bedroom on the fourth floor and dinner is almost ready.”

“Thanks, I uh... I ate at the St. Mungo’s refectory.” 

“Ah, well then...” Malfoy cleared his throat. “Then perhaps you would like to have a tour and a bit of information regarding the changes that we made here? Perhaps it will jog something in your memory?”

Harry nodded. 

“Well this is the kitchen, obviously. We tossed out the table that used to be in here because I needed the cauldron for my work, but you agreed that it was hideous anyway, so you weren’t bothered by it.”

Harry nodded again. It really _had_ been an ugly table, with hissing serpents carved along the legs. 

“And the white?” Harry asked. The kitchen looked beautiful and pristine, but it wasn’t the type of kitchen Harry saw himself having. He always envisioned himself in a cluttered kitchen with warm colors and a window over the sink. 

Malfoy smirked. 

“Yes...the remodel was a tougher sell, but you agreed that since you don’t really spend any time down here, I should make do with it as I like. You liked it...in the end.” He paused and tilted his head. “Do you like it now?” 

“Yeah. It’s pretty.” 

Malfoy smiled. 

“Shall we go to the ground floor? There’s a beautiful wall of photographs-”

“Yeah I saw it. And the first floor with the sitting room. I liked the sitting room. It seemed more like me.” 

“I should hope so" huffed Malfoy. "You were very particular about everything in there. If you’d had your way it would have been an exact duplicate of your old common room.” Malfoy tucked a strand of hair behind his left ear. “So...Have you been to the second floor? It just has our bedroom and bathroom, nothing else. We got rid of the extra bedroom on that floor, it was small anyway, and we made ours larger.”

“More closet space for you?” joked Harry. Malfoy was always wearing something new and expensive when Harry would bump into him. It never mattered if he was shopping for potion ingredients in Diagon Alley or if he was attending a fundraiser, the man never seemed to repeat an outfit.

“Yes, are you remembering?” asked Malfoy eagerly, his eyes bright. 

“Er...” Harry felt his face grow hot. “No I... you just wear a lot of different things... to... you know... places.” _Bloody hell, this is uncomfortable._

“I see...Well you are correct. We do have more closet space now... Have you ventured in there yet?” 

“No.” 

“Then let’s start there, but first let me just-” He waved his wand, and all the pots and pans floated onto the kitchen counters as the stove clicked itself off. The oven door opened and a roast popped out. 

“That’s a lot of food.” noted Harry. 

“Oh it’s nothing. I’ll put it all away later. Shall we?” Malfoy held out an arm, but when Harry hesitated the blond lowered it to his side. “Perhaps we shouldn’t apparate. Let’s take the stairs.”

Harry followed him to the second floor which just had a corridor housing the stairs and large wooden double doors that laid open. They walked through them into a spacious room, decorated in black with dark rich burgundy tones. There was a fireplace off to the side with two armchairs identical to the one that had been in the sitting room, but their color. The ones in the living room had been a warm brown while these both were black. Beside that, centered against the back wall, was a giant four poster bed that Harry could only describe as _excessive_. Burgundy curtains hung down around it, and though it was much too large, it did look inviting. The entire room had an air of romance about it that made Harry feel like he was trespassing. The bedroom in his flat had been comfortable, though small, and the decor hadn’t been anything like this. There had never been a sense of intimacy in the room, which is why he rarely brought anyone home. To his right was a dresser, a full length mirror, and two single doors. 

“One of them is the closet, and the other the bathroom” offered Malfoy, apparently noticing Harry staring. “Let’s continue.”

They went back to the stairs which opened up to a respectably sized library adorned in mostly brown and green tones. A small chandelier hung in the center of the room, casting a warm light on the tomes shelved on the surrounding walls. There were two doors here as well which Malfoy said lead to his and Harry’s respective offices. 

Harry peaked into his own office and saw a desk littered with parchment and shelves stacked with books, more parchment, magazines, and various defensive items, some of which Harry didn’t recognize. When he looked into Malfoy’s space, it was furnished exactly the same, but the desk was bare and all the shelves were in perfect order. 

Then came the fourth floor which housed two guest bedrooms and a large bathroom. One of the bedrooms was light, and airy, with sheer white curtains and a vase of sunflowers sitting on a bedside table. The other room, the one that used to be Sirius’ room, had blue and teal bed sheets with matching curtains. There was a painting on the wall of a person far off in the distance, running through a field of lemongrass as a sun peeked through large fluffy clouds above. There was a sense of peace in the room that Harry would have never thought possible, especially knowing what this house used to feel like. Ron had been right, they had done a good job of remodeling and refurbishing the home. 

“The last floor is the attic.” said Draco. “We still use it for storage, though there aren’t any dark artifacts in there any longer.”

“That’s a relief” said Harry. “That was one of the reasons I didn’t want to live here.” 

Draco smiled kindly, something that Harry wasn't used to. In fact, most of Malfoy's behavior today had been something Harry wasn't used to. 

“Yes you were quite apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but we got it done in the end.” 

“We cleaned everything out together?”

“Yes, and almost got cursed in the process, but we made it out alive.” Malfoy smirked. Harry offered a smile in response, trying to remain polite, but he had a million questions he wanted to ask. He just didn’t feel completely comfortable asking Malfoy... Maybe Ron and Hermione would be able to help in the morning. “I’m going to eat dinner and clean up, then I’ll probably read in the sitting room. It’s your house, so you’re welcome to look around in any room you like. And if you need anything, just ask. Don’t go around acting like a martyr, ok?” Malfoy lifted a teasing eyebrow, but Harry just nodded. He couldn’t get past his feeling of discomfort. 

Malfoy apparated out with a soft pop and left Harry alone in Sirius’ old bedroom. He checked the dresser and found muggle clothing in his size, though none of it was familiar to him. He pulled out a white T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. It was getting late and he’d had an exhausting day. After taking a long shower, he changed into the fresh clothes and crawled into bed. As he lay in bed he thought of Malfoy and how he should probably say goodnight to the man. They _were_ engaged after all, even if Harry didn’t remember. Anxiety over what exactly to say stopped him from getting up again. _Would I just say good night? Would he want to hug me or... Or kiss me again?_ He sighed, turning onto his side and curling up under the covers, pushing Malfoy from his thoughts. As he tried to sleep the day’s events came to him, swirling together in a cacophony of confusion and frustration, but as he finally drifted to sleep it was Draco Malfoy’s face that he saw behind his eyelids, laughing underneath an oak tree.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is confused and angsty.

By midnight, Draco had to come to terms with the fact that Harry was not going to come downstairs to say good night, much less come downstairs to announce that his memory had miraculously returned and that they could put this whole nightmare behind them. 

He threw a bit of powder into the fireplace and called out Pansy’s name, knowing that she would still be awake and willing to lend a sympathetic ear. Draco usually hated the thought of receiving sympathy, but after what he had just been through, the concept sounded incredibly appealing.

Pansy’s face came into view among the flames and Draco poured himself a glass of wine, not having to worry about staying sober so that he could talk to Harry. _Harry isn’t coming down to talk to you. Not tonight._

“What’s wrong?” asked Pansy, getting straight to the point. He never called her past nine, so she must have known something was amiss. Draco sighed heavily after taking a large gulp of wine and buried his face in his hands. “Bloody hell. Move out of the way and I’ll come through.” 

Draco removed himself from in front of the fire and sat in an armchair, bringing his wine with him. He sipped at it languidly as Pansy stepped into the room and brushed the soot from her clothes. 

“You really must add a cleansing charm or two to this fireplace. Every time I step through-” She stopped, taken aback by sight of Draco. “You really do look terrible...” She sat on the sofa and leaned toward him, concern evident on her usually stoic features. “What happened? What’s going on?” 

Tears welled up in Draco’s eyes and suddenly, in that moment, he hated Pansy. He hated her for being one of the few people that he could actually cry in front of, but mostly he hated her because she was _there_ and she was _comfortable_ and he had just spent all day trying to remain composed among medi-wizards and witches, among Harry’s friends, and even in front of Harry himself, the one person he should never have to compose himself for... not anymore. And now here was Pansy and suddenly he had a safe place for his anger, a much more comfortable emotion than the sadness or loss that threatened to take over his heart.

“Don’t look at me like that, Draco. I didn’t do whatever happened. I didn’t do this to you...” Pansy let her voice soften. “What did happen?”

Draco pushed the anger aside and let the sadness in so that he could tell her everything, even if it was between tears. He rambled through everything he’d been through since he’d gotten the owl from St. Mungo’s that late morning, only stopping to wipe his tears away or to take another sip of wine.

“He doesn’t even remember...you? I mean... you recently?” Draco shook his head and Pansy sighed. “I am so sorry, love.” Draco groaned and drank the last of his wine, emptying his glass. Pansy bit her lip in concern. “Alright... let’s think this through. I don’t want you spiraling.”

“Too late.” Draco poured himself another glass. 

“The mediwizard said he simply has to go back to his routine, correct? Tomorrow you can walk him through his routine. Step by step.” 

“I can’t even do that, Pans. He can’t go to work! He can’t return until he is fit for duty.”

“You really are out of sorts if you are unable to think this through on your own.” Draco bristled. Of course he was out of sorts. Had she not been listening to everything he had gone through today? “Okay okay don’t give me that look. What does he do on the days he doesn’t work?”

“Oh... I hadn’t thought of that.” He groaned and let his face fall into his hands again. “I’m not thinking clearly.”

“Obviously. But that’s why you called me, isn’t it? So let’s talk it through. What do you two do when he isn’t working?”

Draco groaned dramatically. 

“I don’t know, Pans! We fuck? We cuddle? We do whatever the bloody hell we want. We go on dates. We plan our future. I don’t fucking know.” He was crying now, the alcohol and his exhaustion mixing and chipping away his defenses. He couldn’t think and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in a world where he could lay in his fiance’s arms again. 

Pansy was suddenly hugging him, something the two of them rarely did. She had never been a physical person and insisted that she hated being squeezed, but on special occasions she would allow touch. Aparantly Draco’s world falling apart was a special occasion.

“It’s okay, Draco. It will be okay. I’ll stay as long as you need and we will plan it all out. We will make him remember again.” 

“What if we can’t? What if he never remembers that he fell in love with me?” Draco whispered into her shoulder. 

“Then you’ll just have to make him fall in love with you again.”

“How?” asked Draco, his voice barely audible.

“However you managed to do it the first time.”

* * *

Buzzing woke Harry at dawn, just in time to take his potion. He wasn’t sure where the noise was coming from, but once he drank from a small potion bottle on his bedside table labeled “Memoraie”, the buzzing stopped.

He went through his morning routine, surprised to find his usual toiletries in the bathroom. There were a few unfamiliar potions and creams that he ignored, but otherwise everything was undeniably his. After finishing up, Harry dressed in simple black trousers and a gray jumper before heading downstairs. 

He was feeling nervous. He knew Malfoy was somewhere in the house and he hoped that the man was still sleeping so he wouldn’t have to make small talk. What does one talk about with their fiance that they don’t remember agreeing to marry? He was also looking forward to seeing Ron and Hermione. They promised they’d be here, though probably not so early in the morning... _But maybe Hermione was too worried to wait..._

He walked downstairs, worried that the noise from apparating would wake Malfoy, but once he reached the sitting room, he realized he needn’t have worried. Malfoy was already awake. He stood by the floo with Ron and Hermione, their backs all turned toward Harry.

“That’s not going to work. He already saw the entire house.” said Malfoy.

“Yes, but more exposure cou-”

Ron cut Hermione off. 

“I think he’d know, ‘Mione.”

“Well we can take Harry around to his favorite places and-”

“He spends most of his time with Draco though.”

“But he doesn’t feel comfortable!” complained Hermione. 

“He doesn’t need to be comfortable. He needs to _remember_.” responded Malfoy.

“How can he remember if he’s on edge?”

“Oh trust me, he has _no problem_ being on edge.” 

Harry cleared his throat, not wanting to hear any more. 

“Oh, Harry! I’m sorry we didn’t hear you...” Hermione smiled apologetically.

“It’s fine” he said, meaning it. As annoying as it all was, he understood their concern because he shared it as well. _I need to get my memory back and fast_. “So...can we talk?” he asked, looking solely at Ron and Hermione. “You know... Alone.” 

“Oh...yeah sure.” said Ron awkwardly before sharing a look with Draco that Harry didn’t understand. The blonde looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow as he left the room. 

“Ok,” said Harry once Malfoy was gone. “We need a plan.”

“Well, that’s what we were working on when you sent Draco out.” sighed Hermione. “He made a plan last nig-”

“What? He didn’t tell me.”

“Did you ask him?” asked Ron. 

“...No. But I was waiting to talk to you two about it.” 

“Harry, what you don’t understand is that for the last few years Draco has been the first person you turn to. It just happens naturally when you’re in a relationship. He’s the one that knows how to calm you best and he’s the person you’ve spent almost every waking moment of the last few years with. Even when you spend time with us, half the time he joins us as well.” said Hermione.

Harry struggled to process what he was hearing. Draco Malfoy is the person who best knows how to calm me down? _But he’s the person who best knows how to upset me_.

“How-” He swallowed, stressed by the effort his mind was taking to make sense of this information. “How does he calm me?” 

Hermione blushed and looked away. 

“Well...” started Ron, clearing his throat. “You haven’t really given us details but it seems that uh... He’s good at... Helping you relax.” He snickered. 

“He’s also very attentive!” added Hermione. “You were telling me just last week about how caring he is and how he’s always thinking of ways to-”

“Okay. Ok I get it. Malfoy is-”

“ _Draco_ , Harry. If you’re going to get your memory back you need to start acting like your normal self and call him Draco.” 

“My normal self calls him Malfoy!” 

“I don’t think so, mate” said Ron as he patted him on the shoulder. “ Draco. Love. Babe. Dray. That’s what you call him.” Harry didn’t know what to say. He could only stand there with his mouth slightly agape. “Yeah I was confused at first too. But Harry, if you want to get back to normal, you’re going to need Draco to do it.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hermione, adding to Harry’s frustration. 

“So now what!” he shouted. “I just run around after Malfoy and-”

“ _Draco_ , Harry-”

“DRACO. I JUST RAN AROUND AFTER _DRACO_ BLOODY _MALFOY_ AND HOPE HIS MAGICAL RELAXATION TECHNIQUES WILL BRING BACK MY MEMORY?” 

A loud CRACK made Hermione and Ron jump. Harry’s fiance had appeared, and he didn’t look happy at all. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t shout. I have a sensitive potion brewing downstairs. Your juvenile outbursts are going to spoil my progress.” 

Harry laughed bitterly. 

“Oh yeah this is really helping. I feel so calm around him, ‘Mione! My memories might even be coming back all because of Malfo-”

“ _Draco_ -” began Hermione, sending Harry’s blood boiling. 

“DRACO THEN!”

“Do. Not. Shout.” interjected Malfoy.

“Malfoy I-”

“ _D_ _raco_ -” corrected Hermione.

“FUCKING HELL IF HE’S MY FIANCE THEN I'LL CALL HIM WHATEVER THE HELL I BLOODY WANT TO CALL HIM!” 

A loud boom rang through house sending Hermione and Ron jumping into the air. Harry whipped out his wand, ready to defend. 

“Now you’ve done it. Wonderful.” Malfoy glared at him. “You’ve ruined my potion.” He disappeared with another crack and a pointed look. 

Silence hung in the air for a long while, falling down like a veil over the trio. They stood there, unmoving, until finally Hermione began to cry. 

“Oh no, ‘Mione, it’s ok. We’re going to figure it out.” Consoled Ron. He pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back slowly. 

“I’m sorry I feel so stupid.” 

“Hey it’s ok. This is difficult and your body is overloading you with hormones. It’s okay. Harry’s going to get along with Draco and they will get his memory back. You just have to go home and relax.” Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry as if to say _Right? You’re going to get along with him and fix this right?_ “Afterall the stress isn’t good for the baby.” 

“What?” asked Harry. “You’re.. You didn’t tell me that you’re having a baby?” 

Hermione pushed Ron away before answering. 

“Honestly, Harry” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “We did tell you... You just can’t remember.” Hermione sniffed. “I think we should go. Ron and I can’t help right now and maybe we need to accept that.” 

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach. It was bad enough that he’d lost his memory, but now he felt like he was losing his friends as well. The three of them had defeated Voldemort together so why couldn’t they overcome this too? Why did they have to leave him alone when he didn’t even know who he was anymore? 

“I’m sorry, mate” said Ron bashfully. “I know it’s not the plan you wanted, but she’s right. We will still stop by, but this isn’t the time and we don’t have the answers.”

“...OK” replied Harry, not knowing what else to say. Yelling wasn’t going to make them stay and neither was begging. They’d made up their minds and arguing would just upset Hermione more. _Pregnant Hermione... Bloody hell..._

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and apologized as her tears fell on his shoulder. Then Ron hugged him and offered a few more kind words that Harry didn’t hear. He was too lost in his thoughts, too confused. 

“We’ll see you in a few days. Send a patronus if there’s an emergency. Tell Draco we love him and I’ll owl him if I get any other ideas.” 

“Yeah... sure.” 

Then his two best friends stepped into the floo and disappeared, leaving him yet again. He didn’t have time to feel too down on himself though because seconds after their departure, there was yet _another_ loud CRACK. 

“Well I have cleaned the- Oh. They’ve left.” He pouted. “Pity. Well, shall we start our day?” He sauntered over and tossed a spatula at Harry which he caught reflexively. “Are you not interested in relearning your routine?” 

“Not really.” answered Harry, bitterly.

“Wonderful! Then I’ll have the pleasure of your discomfort. It will be just like old times.” Malfoy smirked but Harry just frowned. “Not in the mood for banter today? Suit yourself. Just meet me downstairs to start cooking breakfast. It is part of our routine... Well... in a sense.” Malfoy didn’t explain further, he just apparated away again. 

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair before trying to think of a way out of this situation, but unlike his usual adventures, there was no loophole here, no forgotten manhole that the enemy may have disappeared into, no missing detail that could help him solve the case, or restore his memories. He just had to follow his old school rival down to their shared kitchen and let the man control his day, possibly even his week. 

_Fine then. If the only way out of this is through, then I’ll just have to go through. Ok,_ Draco, _let’s see if you can really fix me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about angsty Harry. I tried to write him differently but he just has too many feelings right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst. I promise that things will lighten up next chapter. Sometimes these two just need to shout a bit before they can actually communicate.

Draco leaned against the kitchen counter trying to compose himself before Harry came in. He hoped his fiance would be too lost in his thoughts or at least too stubborn to follow him right away. He struggled to control his breathing and hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. He didn’t know if he could do this. He had made a plan with Pansy and the most crucial part was that he be himself, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be himself right now, not around a Harry that treated him like a nasty stranger. _How can I be myself when he’s not himself? He’s his_ old _self._

The blonde finished collecting himself and began prepping breakfast. When Harry finally joined him, he was almost done cooking. Draco felt a sliver of familiar resentment around his heart, but pushed it away. 

“Can you make the toast?” 

Harry nodded silently, but then didn’t move. He looked around with his brow furrowed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“We keep the bread in the bread bin over there. And you toast it the muggle way. You say it tastes differently when you use magic.” 

“It does.” 

“I’m sure you think so.” smirked Draco, unable to help himself. He was always teasing Harry about his muggle quirks and it was comforting to see him say something so familiar. 

The two puttered around the kitchen, Draco giving instructions when he noticed the mute Harry getting agitated or confused. Soon they had a traditional breakfast ready to eat. It wasn’t Draco’s favorite, but he knew it was Harry’s which is why he’d chosen it for today. It was all part of his plan to bring back Harry’s memories. He’d sprinkle in Harry’s favorite things along with their most frequent activities and by the end of the day he’d surely remember everything. _Please let him remember everything..._

They ate their breakfast, much to Harry’s surprise, on the roof of Grimmauld Place. The outdoor space was decorated with various plants that Draco grew for his potions as well red and yellow roses. From there they had an amazing view of their neighborhood, and if it had been just a few hours earlier, they would have seen the sun rising over the surrounding houses. 

“Can’t they see us?” asked Harry, point to mother and child that were walking across the street.

“No. The charms hide us from muggles. Only a wizard would be able to know we are here, and even then we’d have to invite them. The charms are very sophisticated. George Weasley helped us with them.” 

“George?” 

“Of course. You are average at charms and I am... Well _above_ average, but not at George’s level.” 

Harry snorted. 

“Above average, huh? I don’t remember you being any good at charms.” 

“You don’t remember much though, do you?” Draco smirked and Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I remember the last time I saw you. It was at a Ministry gala and you called me a coward.”

“That was not the last time you saw me, but I recall the night you’re referring to and you _were_ being a coward.” Draco took a bite of toast as Harry’s nostrils flared. 

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Why? I’m a coward, so who better than me would know how to spot another? You helped in the end though, and you apologized for taking so long to do so.”

Harry laughed and Draco had to stop himself from snapping at the man. _He’s being completely insufferable today._

“And why would I do that?” challenged Harry. 

“Because you were _wrong_. Even now you must know you were wrong. I needed help rehabilitating Dark Wizards and you said no because of your prejudice.” Draco sighed, exasperated. “This would go a lot more smoothly if you actually believed what I told you. You helped me because it was the right thing to do.” 

“Show me then."

“Excuse me?”

“I own a pensieve. Where do you keep it? Show me.”

Draco shook his head. This did not sound like a good idea. If Draco showed Harry his own memories, how would Harry ever know if he was actually remembering something or if he was remembering what Draco showed him? _He needs to get these memories back himself._

“No. You need to remember on your own.”

“Then I’ll just assume you're lying.”

Draco growled. _Well, just one memory shouldn’t hurt...._

“Fine.” snapped Draco. “Are you finished?” he asked, gesturing to Harry’s plate. 

“I am for this.” Harry sneared, an expression that didn’t quite match his features, but which Draco had been on the receiving end many times before. ... _But not in a very long time... Fuck you, Potter._

Draco waved his wand, summoning the sleek silver pensieve they usually kept in Harry’s small office. As it materialized, he held his wand to his temple and extracted a memory. Once it was in the pensieve, he wordlessly gestured at it, worried that he’d say something too scathing if he let himself speak. 

Harry leaned in and Draco followed. 

_Malfoy Manor appeared around them, decorated with Christmas garlands and twinkling lights. They were in the foyer, where a rumpled Draco was fixing his hair in a large ornate mirror that took up most of the wall. He sighed after a few seconds of fluffing and gave up, turning to the enormous double doors of the entryway._

_The doors opened and Harry Potter walked in looking as if he hadn’t slept in days._

_“Thanks for meeting me.” he said, his cheeks pink. Draco didn’t respond. Instead, he walked toward his sitting room, not bothering to tell Harry to follow him, but the Gryffindor moved behind him regardless. They sat in an oversized room decorated with creamy white furniture. Harry sat on the edge of a sofa looking as if one ounce of physical comfort would surely lead to an untimely death while Draco crossed his legs primly and did his best to look disinterested._

_“Er... I’m sure you’d like to know why I’m here.” Draco shrugged and a beat of silence passed before Harry continued. “Well, I wanted to apologize for last week. And for taking so long... And... I er... You were right and I want to help.”_

Present day Draco looked at present day Harry and sneared.

_“I... was right? Did I hear that correctly?” asked past Draco._

_“Look, you seem to have turned out okay. Sure you’re an insufferable prat, but you’re not evil and you’ve done a lot of good that you wouldn’t have been able to do if Dementors had sucked out your soul.”_

_Draco raised an eyebrow and leaned forward._

_“What exactly brought you to this conclusion? You were adamant at the gala that you would never help a death eater get out of Azkaban.”_

_Harry’s cheeks redened._

_“Actually, it was Hermione. She...made some valid points...”_

_“Such as?” drawled Draco._

_“Well... I helped_ you _. I testified at your hearing.”_

_Draco shifted in his seat and swallowed._

_“Yes... You did.”_

_“And you’ve done a lot of... well... I know you donate to charities and... You’re not all bad, okay?” Harry stumbled through his words, avoiding eye contact from the blonde._

_“I see. And you are sure you want to offer your assistance?”_

_“Yes” croaked Harry before clearing his throat and meeting Draco’s gaze. Green eyes met grey and the brunette smiled weakly. “If you still want it.”_

_Draco returned the smile with one of his own._

The Manor’s walls faded away and Draco found himself back on the roof of Grimmauld Place, looking into the face of a very disappointed Harry Potter. 

“That doesn’t explain much, does it?” 

Draco rolled his eyes and began to clear the table.

“It is your own explanation in your own words. If that is not satisfying perhaps you should _continue working on recovering your memories."_ spat Draco, too exasperated to monitor his tone. 

“Well what happened next? Did we get anyone released?” 

“We created a rehabilitation program with Granger and the Ministry. It has been highly successful.”

Harry stared at the table between them, processing this information. Then he looked up at Draco expectantly, his eyes bright. 

“Well this is great! Just show me all your memories of me and it will all make sense soon, right?” He grinned.

“What will make sense?” asked the blonde.

“Why I wanted to marry you.” replied Harry matter-of-factly. Draco choked on his saliva and began coughing, dropping a plate in the process. “Reparo” said Harry. “Once that makes sense, I’m sure I’ll remember everything.” 

“I... I am not going to show you my memories, Harry.” 

“”Why? It’s the fastest way-”

“I already told you! You need to remember for yourself!” A knot had built in the back of Draco’s throat and he was now desperately trying to keep it under control. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Harry. Not _this_ Harry. 

“But how can I remember when I don’t even want to be here?”

Draco’s eyes were stinging now as his fought back tears. 

“Then perhaps you should just go.” whispered the blonde. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t constantly argue with this man while being questioned on why anyone would love him.

“What?”

“I _said”_ Draco raised his voice, “that perhaps you should just _GO!_ ” 

“But the pensie-”

“No! I am not opening up my mind to you so you can pick and prod at every memory for some clue as why on earth the great Harry Potter would ever stoop so low as to fall in love with a _Malfoy._ You can barely look at me and when you do it is with _disdain.”_ He voice cracked and the tears finally broke past his defenses. “Take your bloody memory potion, take your clothes, take whatever the fuck you want and go, _Potter!”_

“Hey... I...”

Draco was openly crying now, but he still held his head high in defiance. Harry stared, his eyes wide with panic, but when Draco stood to leave the brunette had the good sense to stand as well.

“Wait. I-” He ran a hand through his hair as Draco cried silently. “I’m sorry I...” He took a hesitant step forward. “I’m sorry. I’m not... I’m not thinking. I just feel so... Fuck. I don’t talk about these things!” 

Draco wanted, more than anything, to be hugged in that moment. He wanted to be pulled into Harry’s arms and comforted, but Harry was the one causing him pain. He vanished the pile of empty plates between them and walked toward the roof exit, too emotional to aparate without splinching. 

Harry grabbed Draco's forearm and pulled back softly. 

“Wait. I’m sorry. I’ll stop... I’ll stop asking about... Well you know. Just don’t go, okay? Ron and ‘Mione left. You’re the only one who can help now and... I can’t do this alone. I’m sorry.”

Harry still held on to the blonde and for the first time that day, Draco felt a trickle of hope. He stepped back, closer to Harry, and leaned in to him. The man, shockingly, wrapped his arms around him. It was an awkward hug, but it was physical touch from the man he loved and Draco would take what he could. 

“So uh..” Harry cleared his throat as he let his arms fall and ended the embrace. “What er... What do you have planned next?”

Draco wiped his tears away and smiled weakly. 

“Shopping.”


End file.
